by Wendy Rosnau
“There’s something between you two, isn’t there.”
“No. Of course not.” She feigned another smile. “I’m glad you came to see me. So tell me your news. What’s causing this glow you have besides being married to the man you love?”
Rhea’s smile spread. “I’m pregnant.”
“You’re pregnant?”
“Yes. Joey and I are going to have another baby. I haven’t told him yet. I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure. I got a call from my doctor this afternoon.”
Elena moved to Rhea and hugged her. “I’m so happy for you. You deserve to be happy, Rhea. If anyone does, you do.”
Elena kept her smile in place as she stepped back. She wasn’t going to spoil Rhea’s wonderful news with her own emotional dilemma.
“I’m organizing Sunni and Jackson’s wedding for New Year’s. I wish you could stay. But I’ll take lots of pictures and send them to you. I promise.”
“The tunnel was here when Vito bought the estate,” Lucky explained as he drove the four-wheel trackster, which resembled a souped-up golf cart, deeper into the underground tunnel.
“It’s a piece of architectural genius,” Joey said.
“It must have cost a fortune to build,” Jacky added.
Joey sat next to Lucky. Jackson and Hank Mallory, Chicago’s chief of police, were seated behind them.
Jackson asked, “How is Elena taking Vito’s death?”
“She’ll do better once she’s back home.” Lucky could feel Joey’s eyes on him, but he refused to look his brother’s way. Elena was going to be fine once she distanced herself from Dante Armanno.
“Lucky? Did you hear?”
“What?”
“I said I like meeting here better than the Stardust. Less chance of being seen with Mallory,” Joey explained.
For weeks they had been meeting in a back room at the Stardust, and like Joey, Lucky had been uneasy about being seen with the Chicago chief of police.
Hank Mallory had labeled Joey and Lucky as undercover informants a few weeks ago, but that wasn’t what they were. They simply had a mutual agenda—shutting down greedy men like Carlo Talupa and Vincent D’Lano.
Lucky brought the trackster to a quick stop and climbed out. He hit an electronic switch and a narrow section of the wall opened to reveal a lit stairway.
After Joey, Jacky and Hank Mallory followed him up the stairs, Lucky pressed another button and the door behind them closed. At the same time another one opened in front of them to reveal a passageway that led into the master bedroom.
“This place is unbelievable,” Mallory said as they filed into the spacious bedroom. He spun around, his eyes scanning the room with disbelieving eyes. Finally he said, “Where’s the harem?”
Lucky was in no mood for jokes. The room was over-the-top, he’d attest to that. Not at all what he was used to, but it was obvious the room had been one of Vito’s passions. The room was so large it had a warm-water pool complete with its own waterfall.
“You said the tunnel was here when Vito bought the place?” Jackson clarified.
“It was built in the early twenties. Vito said he stumbled on it by accident a few years after he moved in.”
A low whistle came from Jackson as he strolled toward the waterfall that fed the pool with warm water. The waterfall was fourteen feet high and had been constructed out of white limestone. “No wonder you agreed to become Vito’s heir.”
Lucky scowled at his friend as Jackson shrugged out of his jacket.
“Like I said, where’s the harem?” Hank chuckled.
Lucky gave Hank the same look he’d given Jackson, then turned to see his brother studying the waterfall with more interest than the other two. As a kid Joey had dreamed of one day becoming an architect.
Suddenly he turned and grinned at Lucky. “I always thought you needed a hobby, little brother. Maybe you could turn the pool into a trout pond and fish from your bed.” He glanced at the ridiculous oversize bed with corner posts the size of tree trunks and a carved headboard fit for an emperor.
Ignoring the teasing, Lucky reached into his pocket and pulled out a plastic bag that held Carlo Talupa’s gold ring and watch. “Here, Jacky. Vito asked me to give you these. He said they would help you close the case on Carlo’s murder.”
“He killed him?” Hank asked.
“For months Carlo was muscling Vito into handing over his estate to Moody Trafano,” Lucky explained. “Vito knew he wasn’t going to live too much longer. I think he just decided that it was time to give Carlo what he deserved.”
“Gwaak! A meat cleaver between the eyes. Gwaak!”
“What the hell is that?” Jackson asked, searching the fragrant foliage that ran along the opposite end of the pool where Chansu was perched.
“That’s Summ’s parrot,” Lucky explained. “I’m told he spends a lot of time in here during the winter because it’s fifteen degrees warmer than the rest of the house.”
“More like twenty-five.” Joey was stripping off his long leather jacket and draping it over an elegant chair covered in purple velvet.
“Wait till I tell Ma you got a bird.” Jackson headed into the garden to get a closer look at the parrot.
“He’s not my bird, Jacky,” Lucky countered. “Anyway, you’ve got a dog and—” he looked at Joey “—you’ve got a kid.”
“This headboard is inlaid brass.” Hank Mallory stood next to the big bed. He was touring the room, touching everything like an inquisitive kid. “Asian rugs and satin pillows.” He sat down on the purple velvet couch and hugged a yellow pillow. “Damn, this was worth the blindfolded trip through the woods.”
At first Hank had protested Lucky’s insistence that he wear a blindfold until he got into the tunnel. But the alliance between them was risky on both ends. Lucky had been concerned with Hank’s safety, as well as his own and that of the men and women who worked for him.
“It’s getting late,” Lucky said. “Let’s get this business over with before midnight.”
Hank came to his feet. “My men tell me that the Colombians are determined to set up a new drug network in the city. How do we find out who they’re working with so we can shut them down before they get started?”
Jackson said, “The Colombians are known for not trusting anyone. That’s why they’re so successful. To get that kind of information, Hank, someone will have to penetrate their organization.”
“It’s done.” Lucky turned to see three pairs of questioning eyes staring him down. “What’s the matter?”
“It’s done?” Joey asked. “When the hell have you had time to do that?”
“I don’t have any hobbies, remember?”
Joey advanced on his brother. “I thought we agreed that you would stay out of sight for a while. Your back is—”
“Better,” Lucky said.
Jackson darted between the two brothers. “Take it easy, Joe.” Over his shoulder he said, “On your own, Lucky? Did you make contact with the Colombians yourself?”
“No. That would have been stupid.” Lucky looked at Joey. “I’ve done some stupid things recently, but that’s not one of them. In this situation our window of opportunity is tight. We didn’t have the luxury of time.”
“What does that mean?” Hank asked.
Lucky eyed the gray-haired police chief, then walked over to a round table just off the corner of the pool. As he sat, he motioned to the other empty chairs. When they were all gathered around the table, he said, “I got a phone call from New York. The organization is anxious to fill Carlo’s shoes.”
Joey frowned. “Why would they call you about that?”
Lucky shrugged. “Maybe they value my opinion on their choice.”
“And did you give them your opinion?” Jackson inquired.
“Yes. They asked me what I thought of Armand Santo’s son.”
Joey leaned forward, his eyes black as he glared at his brother. “His oldest son, Dominick?”
“Yes.”
<
br /> “Isn’t he living down South somewhere?”
Lucky nodded. “Biloxi, Mississippi.”
“What do you think of him?” Jackson asked.
“We could do worse.” What Lucky didn’t say was that he and Dominick had similar views in many areas. They would be able to work well together. The hard puncher from Biloxi did what he had to do to survive, and though, like Lucky, he wasn’t always happy about what was required of him, he was a man of honor.
“I got to know him a few years ago,” Lucky said. “He came to town tracking his younger sister. She’d run away from home and had ended up here on the streets. I found her for him.”
“So is Santo going to be the new boss of bosses in Chicago?” Jackson asked.
“I don’t know. He’s definitely in the running.”
“Can we work with him,” Joey questioned, “or will we be looking over our shoulders?”
“We will always be looking over our shoulders, Joey. We won’t live any different no matter who steps in and takes Carlo’s place.” Lucky leaned back in his chair and crossed his leg over his knee, something he hadn’t been able to do in more than a year without pain shooting down his spine. But there was no pain tonight, thanks to Elena. “Now, about the Colombians…”
It was snowing when Elena left the house. She would have preferred to wait for better weather, but it was now or never. She was returning to Santa Palazzo tomorrow night.
An hour ago she’d slipped into the study and found the hidden panel that led to the tunnel her father had told her about.
The tunnel had taken her to the river, and from there she had picked her way through the deep snow in the woods with the flashlight. It had taken her a long half hour to reach the road. Hitchhiking was dangerous, but again, her choices had been few. She couldn’t ask Rhea to help her, and she knew Summ and Benito’s loyalty was to Lucky first—as it should be.
She’d flagged down a man driving a gray pickup and fabricated a story about having car trouble on a side road. He looked to be a decent guy. Not too talkative, but generous with the heater as he drove her into the city. He’d dropped her off at a gas station, and after he’d left, she’d called a cab.
Minutes ago the cab driver had dropped her off two blocks from Vincent D’Lano’s brownstone, and she now stood outside the iron gate, her heart pounding in her chest as she considered how to break into the house. Her night’s escapades were far from over. She was nervous and, yes, afraid. But Romano had taught her that a little bit of fear was good. It sharpened your senses and made you keep alert. And she would need to be alert when she breached the house security.
She pulled a ski mask out of the pocket of the black sweatshirt she wore and slipped it over her head. Dressed all in black and with the skill of a cat burglar, she picked the lock on the gate and slipped inside.
It took her only a few minutes to decide where she should enter the house. Another lock picked and she slipped inside the service entrance, then into the kitchen.
It was a little after midnight and the house staff had gone to bed. Elena turned on her flashlight and exited the kitchen. Her flashlight back in her pocket, she followed a dim hallway, wondering how many rooms she would have to search before she found Vincent D’Lano. Not too many, she hoped.
He was likely in bed on the second floor, and that thought had her searching for a stairway.
Since the moment she’d overheard Lucky talking to Joey that afternoon in the kitchen of his family home, she’d known what she had to do. The man who had brutalized her mother was still alive. Lucky had lied to her.
Her emotions high, Elena crept farther down the hallway, stopping when she heard a woman’s soft crying. Her heart began to pound harder as she located the door where the sound was coming from.
She stopped outside a heavy wooden door as the woman’s crying turned into pleading, followed by a gruff voice demanding she get on her knees.
Elena was so immersed in the male voice behind the door, sure it had to be Vincent D’Lano, that she didn’t hear or feel a presence behind her until the barrel of a gun nudged her ribs, and the flashlight she held was snatched from her hand.
It was then that she realized someone had been following her since she’d entered the house. Or perhaps even before that.
Chapter 12
The ski mask was jerked from her head, and Elena’s black hair fell into her eyes. A moment later she was pushed onto a chair, the gun in her sweatshirt pocket removed and pocketed.
In that moment she saw a half-naked young woman scramble off the floor, tugging the open bodice of her maid’s uniform together. Wiping away tears, she ran from the room.
“Close the door, Tony.”
The man who had found her in the hallway walked to the door and closed it. He was the same man Elena had seen earlier that day at Caponelli’s. The bulldog with the scarred nose.
A huge desk loomed in front of her and at one corner stood Vincent D’Lano. Elena had never seen him before, but she knew this man had to be him.
He was a stocky man with a wide mustache that covered his entire top lip. He was shorter than she’d imagined him to be, she realized as she studied his angular face and cold dark eyes. He wore a gray suit, shiny black shoes and too much cologne.
“Good work, Tony. Let me guess.” He reached out and grabbed a handful of Elena’s hair and jerked her head back to stare at her face. “Yes, you certainly look like your mother. But you are Vito’s secret seed. I see it in your eyes.”
Elena reacted instinctively and spit in his face.
Vincent D’Lano’s reaction was just as quick. He backhanded her so fast and so hard that when he let go of Elena’s hair, her head snapped back and blood flowed from her nose.
As he wiped her spit from his face, he said, “Why is it, Tony, that women are so slow to learn their place? They have no respect, and then they cry when they’re punished.”
His white shirt was open, exposing a hairy chest and aging waistline. His shirt wasn’t completely pulled free from his suit pants, but his zipper was open and his belt was loosened.
He stepped back and zipped up his pants, cinched his belt.
Elena wiped at the blood dripping over her mouth, smearing it across her cheek. Ignoring the pain and the stinging sensation, she said, “You’re dead, D’Lano. You won’t live to see the new year.”
He laughed, continued to stare at her. Elena knew why. He thought he was seeing a ghost.
She said, “You did it. You were the one who tortured my mother. Tried to kill her. You will die for that, you sick bastard.”
“Shut up!” He backhanded her again, this time the force splitting her cheek open. “Did she come alone?” Vincent asked his driver.
“Yes, boss, she was alone. I spotted her at the gate while I was outside having a smoke.”
“Then we have all night to see what she’s made of. Good. In the morning we’ll call Lucky Masado and see if he wants her back after we’re done with her. We’ll see if he’s willing to make a trade to have her back in one piece.” He reached for the knife that lay on the desk and ran his finger over the four-inch blade. “Your mother squirmed and squealed like a pig when I cut her. Let’s see just how tough a little bitch you really are.”
Tony laughed, then said, “You think she bites like her mother?”
His words sent Elena’s eyes to the driver’s ugly nose. The thought of her mother fighting for her life, biting and squealing in pain, was too much, and everything Romano had taught her over the years surged forward. Quickly she gripped the edges of her chair and made a hard sweeping motion with her left leg, smacking both of Vincent D’Lano’s legs just above his ankles. The force was enough to make him cry out in pain. He dropped the knife as he lost his balance.
Before he hit the floor, Elena was on her feet, spinning around to face Tony. He came at her fast, and knowing she would be no match for his strength, she dropped to her knees, grabbed the fallen knife that lay next to D’Lano’s leg, then roll
ed away. Back on her feet, she raised the knife.
Tony grinned. “Very good, Miss Tandi. I see you’ve been practicing for this day.”
Maybe she had, Elena thought. Maybe she had always known that one day she would be facing the man responsible for her mother’s nightmare.
“Get her, Tony,” Vincent growled, staggering back to his feet. “I don’t want to lose her.”
Elena knew the odds were against her. She had sparred with Romano for several years, become skilled in self-defense, but did she have what it would take to face two men at the same time?
She didn’t think so. Not men like these two who used women, then discarded them like garbage.
With no time to think about her decision, Elena hurled the knife at the man with the scarred nose. The minute the knife left her hand, she was moving. The knife sank into his shoulder, sending him backward with a roar of surprise and pain.
His roar distracted Vincent D’Lano for a second, and in that second, Elena surged past him and sprinted to the door. She jerked it open, then raced down the hallway and past Moody Trafano who was looking at her with a confused expression on his face.
When he tried to stick out his crutch to trip her, she shoved him hard as she sprinted on her way back to the kitchen.
She heard Moody scream as he went sprawling, but it wasn’t as loud as Vincent’s as he ordered his henchman to chase her down. She ran faster, hearing heavy steps behind her.
She reached the kitchen door just as Vincent was yelling at the bulldog to shoot her if he couldn’t stop her. She pushed the door open into the kitchen just as a gunshot followed her inside.
The room was black as coal as the door swung shut and she immediately froze, then reached into her pocket for her flashlight. But it wasn’t there. Tony had taken it from her.
Elena tried to clear her head enough to retrace her steps. When she’d entered the back door a half hour ago, she’d moved to the right. Now she moved left in hopes of finding the service entrance.
She stumbled, and the corner of the counter drove into her side. Sucking in a breath, she laid her hands flat on the marble surface and started to move around it.